


Promises

by xylinafuriae



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylinafuriae/pseuds/xylinafuriae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ser Alrik proposes the "Tranquil Solution". It gives Meredith something to think about.<br/>I'm bad at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

Meredith flipped through the packet of papers placed on her desk, a thumb gently turning the pages over as her fingers curled underneath the bundle. As she skimmed, her eyebrows skewed, and within only a few moments her attention was returned to the person who had placed them on the desk to begin with.

“Ser Alrik,” she sighed, a hand moving from the flat of her desk to rub the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Explain to me again the purpose of this proposal.” The last word she uttered with much labor, tenseness in the back of her head beginning to make her entire skull throb and ache. It was a usual occurrence, particularly when she saw Ser Otto Alrik in the gallows, and even more intensely so when he requested an audience with her. The man did good work, she was sure, but his methods were something she questioned more with each passing day.

“Knight-Commander, the purpose of this is to gain absolute control of the Mages in the Circle.” He stood tall, proudly, a smile growing on his face even as Meredith’s head throbbed and her her gaze turned icy. “I call it the ‘Tranquil Solution’. By making all the mages in Kirkwall tranquil we can squash the resistance before it gets out of hand. We can stop blood magic, and put to rest Emeric’s ghost stories of mages kidnapping women. The Tranquil Solution would be the end of all distrust of mages in Kirkwall, and allow the Templars to come to the full realization of power that we deserve.” He waved his hands illustratively as he spoke, speaking of the resistance with a punch to his own palm and a wave of his hands at the mention of Emeric. Perhaps it was notable that he seemed so passionate, so fully confident in his own ideas. Perhaps it was admirable, in a way.

“Not only that, Knight-Commander, but—“

Meredith lifted her hand to stop him, the other still pinching the bridge of her nose, desperately attempting to relieve the pressure from the back of her head.

“Ser Alrik,” she finally lowered her hand to speak, “when you were knighted, you swore to an oath. Care to tell me what that was?”

Alrik’s eyebrows lowered, his head cocking slightly, as if the point Meredith was trying to make was eluding him. “To uphold the virtues of the Chantry, to be diligent in our efforts, to protect the Mages from those who would do them harm, and to protect the innocent from those the Mages would harm instead.”

“A delightful paraphrase,” Meredith stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me why you don’t think turning every Mage in Kirkwall tranquil is violating that oath.”

Alrik’s eyes narrowed, and his spine stiffened as he stood up more straight, though Meredith could tell he was still as defiant as ever. “By taking away their emotion, we lessen the risk of attacks on innocents. By removing their connection to the fade we remove their dreams and ambitions, lessen the pressure on Templar practices. They will gladly take orders, gladly stay where they belong in the Circle. In time, they may become shopkeepers and be integrated into society. They could hate no longer, Knight-Commander.”

“That may be true,” Meredith shook her head, knowing the words she was about to say would fall on deaf ears, “but you speak of these Mages as if every one of them deserves it.”

“They do, Knight-Commander. Their ability to effect the balance of nature is— it’s unnatural.”

“Were that the case, Ser Alrik, the Maker would not have given them their talents. What you are forgetting is that the Rite of Tranquility is not easy on the people who receive it as well as the people who have to administer it.”

“But without their emotions they could never hate again!” Alrik was beginning to get itchy now, desperate for Meredith to hear his pleas. “They could never hate, get angry, get jealous, or even love again!”

That word. “Love”. The very sound of it on Alrik’s lips made the pressure on Meredith’s head grow tenfold in intensity, her head throbbing so harshly she was unsure how her skull had not cracked open. She almost wished for that, if it would relieve this pain if only so she could think clearly. The idea that one of her Templars would speak of this…

“Alrik, having feelings is not a privilege. It is a right given to us by the Maker when we take our first breaths. The Rite of Tranquility is not something to be tossed around for convenience!” She stood now, her cheeks flushed with anger, hands in fists upon the smooth wood of her desk. “It is delicate and it is reserved for specific circumstances and for good reason. Imagine if you loved someone with all your heart and they suddenly felt nothing for you, stopped loving you in return. Imagine if you no longer loved someone, overnight. Imagine your dreams and hopes and passions, things every person is entitled to by the Maker’s will, just being gone because you happened to be born with a gift the Maker had given to you in the first place! You should know better than this, Alrik. You clearly have misinterpreted the oath you gave, as well as the duty you raise your sword for!”

Alrik stood watching her, every word she spat digging into his demeanor, and they stood in silence for a time. At last, Alrik’s smile wavered and relaxed, and he wiped his hands on his kilt before speaking again, though this time his voice was not nearly as defiant.

“So … I suppose you don’t approve of the proposal?”

The throbbing in Meredith’s head, as if it could not possibly get any worse, pinged once more behind her ears. “Get out of my office! I will not listen to you speak of things you know nothing about!” She lifted a fist from the desk to point toward the door, her pointer finger outstretched although the rest of her fist remained.

He ducked his head and left then, leaving the door wide open as he retreated from her study. She slowly lowered her hand to her desk again, holding herself up as her headache made her feel almost dizzy. Lifting a fist from her desk, she clenched it hard and punched the wood, recognizing the pain behind her eyelids; in the past, she had willed the pain to stop if she punched something for long enough, but today her own words just rang in her head.

Imagine if you loved someone with all your heart and they suddenly felt nothing for you, stopped loving you in return.

She punched the wood again, hard, but found no solace in it. Her head just felt tighter, as if there were a cage around it, and it begged for the release she knew how to give it but would not. She stood straight, moving to the open door of her office that drew her to it like a beacon. She wanted to stop herself from opening the door to Orsino’s office, but her eyes were met with him at his desk before she could think to stay her hand.

“Meredith?” Orsino’s head lifted from his papers, his eyebrows skewing at the sight of her. He stood, watching her move inside and close the door behind her. “I heard you yelling at Alrik. Is everything alright? What happened?”

“Shut up.” She shook her head, her legs moving as if on their own to walk toward him until she was standing before him. Her arms wrapped around him, resting her head in the crook of his neck, her nose against the fabric covering his collar. He always smelled so sweet, so comforting, like musty books and ink, and as if someone had left a pie to sit on the window sill. She squeezed him tighter than she meant to, though she didn’t notice her elbow pads digging into his hips.

“Meredith, your armor is—“ 

“Shut up.” She only squeezed tighter, the pain behind her eyelids becoming too much. “Don’t ever stop, Orsino.”

She could feel his hands on her now, one pulling her headdress away to rest on his desk, his fingers weaving into her hair as he cradled her head.

“Don’t stop what, Meredith?” His voice was calm now, lower, reassuring. It was a voice she got rarely from anyone, let alone Orsino, the man who was more apt to scream in her face than wipe her tears, despite everything.

“Just…” she felt herself sniffling as she buried her face deeper into the man’s neck, her heart needing him closer though the armor she wore kept him at bay. “Just don’t. Just promise me you won’t.”

He shook his head then, and she could feel him turn his head to kiss her forehead, now exposed without the headdress. “I promise. I promise you, I won’t.”

She felt her head throb as she let her tears finally slip, the words on his lips and his hand in her hair drawing them out despite her efforts. He held her tighter, his fingers through her hair. Somewhere in her heart she knew that his words were not empty, that he knew exactly what he had promised. Orsino never broke his promises.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was written for day one of my Meresino drabble challenge on tumblr. But it went way over 400 words, so here ya go.


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